Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.

Shelob’s back!

You know that the season is peaking in Seattle when the spiders achieve monstrous dimensions. Shelob, the one in my front window, has a body about the size of a fat dime in diameter. She was missing yesterday, but returned this morning, so I managed to document her.

The bamboo wand on my front porch is essential equipment at this time of year. I have overcome my childhood arachnophobia enough to hold a camera close to Shelob. However, a face-full of web can bring my nightmares flashing back. I know I am not alone in my fears.

“Monstrous and abominable eyes they were, bestial and yet filled with purpose and with hideous delight, gloating over their prey trapped beyond all hope of escape,” Tolkien’s vivid description of the dreaded queen of Cirith Ungol pay testimony to how powerfully we have enculturated that fear.

However, after five years in Seattle, I have mastered certain skills. I can now wave and flick the spider wand masterfully, undoing its days work, perhaps, but leaving it alive to harvest insects.

I have come to view the spiders as a garden crop, whose growth in girth marks the passing of time. It’s just a speedier cycle of life than watching the horses grow up.

When Cathy and I left for Kentucky, Goshen had just arrived at Cascade Gold again.

The plan was to turn him out with Annie and Scooter so that the two youngsters could buddy up. Of course, Annie got in the first word about THAT. There was a chunk of missing hair on the top of Goshen’s rump the next morning, and he was standing far, far away in the field as we drove away. Ideally, would like to have been able to monitor things closely, but we’d have to rely on cell-phone reports on how things were going.

By the time I returned, there were signs of a significant change. Scooter was chumming around with Goshen while Annie grazed on the other side of the tree.

Over the next couple days, I saw that as long as Goshen maintained a passive babysitting role, he would was tolerated. To even think about approach her highness, however, resulted in pinned ears and a fearsome headwaving. More marks on his rump bore witness that there was bite behind that bark.

On the other hand, I also saw Goshen, who had only been with older horses since weaning, boss Scooter around a bit. Goshen would still turn into a clacking yearling if Annie so much as looked at him, but obviously having a companion he could dominate was an interesting novelty.

Goshen’s communication is much lower voltage than the amped-up signals that Annie sends off. Frequently, it is accomplished with nothing more the slightly contemptuous look of an upper-classman examining an incoming freshman.

Salam, the real big boy on the block, finds both youngsters simply unworthy of his attention. He only has eyes for Annie. It is possible he is writing carefully-metered sonnets as he strolls the fenceline, tossing her dreamy gazes.

I expect that by the time Shelob has expired, Scooter will be weaned without even noticing it.

I will not be going the way of Shannon Bowley, who raises spiders as pets, according to this Seattle Times article by Sandi Doughton. Nor will I be observing spider interactions closely, although perhaps I should. Shelob is something like Annie in her views of the male gender, apparently, though she takes it a little further – if a male is not careful, he triggers her prey drive, and… I’ll say no more. Tolkein pretty much covers that too, “Far and wide her lesser broods, bastards of the miserable mates, her own offspring, that she slew, spread from glen to glen…”

The European Cross Spider, Araneus diadematus, is, as its name implies, not native to Seattle. However, it conforms to the Pacific Northwest ethos, being a recycler by nature. Shelob was probably out of sight because she was eating her web, using the protein-rich silk to generate a fresh web by morning. Shortly before leaving, I heard an NPR broadcast about how spiders build their webs, complete with parachuting and other adventurous techniques.

I guess it’s Halloween season, so spiders, bats and other creatures that we allocate to the dark side will be consuming us for a while.

I will mourn Shelob a little on the inevitable morning when she does not return to her station in the front window. I have singled her out and named her, after all.

Note: This is a seattlepi.com reader blog. It is not written or edited by the P-I. The authors are solely responsible for content. E-mail us at newmedia@seattlepi.com if you consider a post inappropriate.